Lee Morse is kind of a mood in A Million Me's

If you have about nine minutes to kill and you like old jazz, this is probably for you. It’s definitely not for anyone who needs a plot or characters that actually do things.

I stumbled on this while looking for early sound shorts. It’s basically a glorified screen test or a promotional bit for Lee Morse.

Lee is sitting at the piano, just kind of humming and playing some bluesy chords. She has this voice that sounds like she’s been drinking coffee and smoking for twenty years, but in a cool way. 🎹

Then this young guy walks in carrying a stack of records. He looks way too excited to be there.

He says something like, "Hello Miss Morse, I brought the records you made!" He’s smiling so hard his face probably hurt after the take.

He tells her they are going to start making the movie next week. He’s all ready to go, full of that 1930s "can-do" energy that feels a bit fake now.

Lee just looks at him and says, "I don't think so." It’s the most honest moment in the whole thing.

She doesn’t even sound angry. She just sounds tired of the whole idea of being a movie star.

The way she delivers that line is so flat. It’s almost funny because the guy is so hyped up and she just shuts him down with four words.

I like how the camera just kind of sits there. It doesn’t move because, well, it’s 1930 and those cameras were basically giant refrigerators that couldn't move an inch.

The sound quality is a bit fuzzy, like you’re listening to a conversation through a thick wool blanket. But you can still hear her personality coming through the static.

There is something about these early talkies that feels so ghostly. Everyone in them is trying to figure out where to stand so the microphone picks them up.

You can see the young man, played by William Hillpot, almost waiting for his cue. He’s standing there holding those records like they are the most important things in the world.

It reminds me a bit of the awkwardness in The Gorilla. That movie also struggled with people just standing around talking into hidden mics.

But Lee Morse is the real reason to watch. She was a huge star on records but she never really became a huge movie star.

Watching this, you kind of see why. She doesn't feel like she’s performing for the lens; she feels like she’s just waiting for the guy to leave so she can finish her song. 🎤

The lighting is pretty basic. It’s that flat, bright light they used to use so the film would actually register an image.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of A Million Me's (1930) through its definitive frames.

There is a moment where she hits a note and her voice cracks just a tiny bit. It’s beautiful because it’s not perfect.

Nowadays everything is tuned and fixed. Here, it’s just a lady and a piano and some weird guy with a stack of wax discs.

If you’ve seen One Week, you know how much can be done with a simple setup. This isn't as clever as that, but it has a similar "let's just try this" feeling.

I wonder if the "movie" they talk about in the script ever actually happened. Or if this short is the only thing left of that idea.

It feels very fragile. Like if you breathed too hard on the film reel, the whole story would just disappear.

The interaction between Hillpot and Morse is so stiff. It’s like two people meeting for the first time at a bus stop and trying to act like old friends.

I noticed a shadow on the back wall that doesn't seem to belong to anyone. It just kind of hangs there while they talk about the records.

Small things like that make these old shorts feel more real to me than the big blockbusters. You can see the mistakes and the weirdness of the era.

It's definitely better than some of the stuff from that year, like The Great London Mystery which just drags on. At least this is over before you get bored.

I wish she had sung more. The talking parts are okay, but her singing is where the magic is.

She had this way of yodeling—not like a cowboy, but like a jazz singer. It’s hard to describe if you haven't heard it.

The title "A Million Me's" is kind of ironic. There was really only one Lee Morse, and she didn't seem to want to be anyone else.

The ending is very abrupt. It just... stops.

No big finale. No credits scrolling for ten minutes. Just a quick fade to black and you’re back in the real world. 🎞️

It’s not a masterpiece like Queen Kelly, but it doesn't try to be. It’s just a fragment of a career that could have been bigger in Hollywood.

Check it out if you find it on a dusty corner of the internet. It’s a nice little time capsule of a voice that deserves to be remembered.

Don't expect much and you'll probably like it quite a bit. Just a girl and her blues. 🎼